Shimeria
05-12-2010, 01:14 AM
A spiraling tapered faewood runestaff - 4x
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Actions when a Sorcerer is using:
You lower the tip of your tapered faewood runestaff to the ground and trace a pattern which glows with a dark purple light. You firmly tap the pattern with your runestaff and a circle of radiating black essence rises from the ground beneath you and then disappears.
You raise your tapered faewood runestaff and trace an eldritch sign as tendrils of shadow gather briefly about you.
Whispering an enigmatic phrase, you gesture effortlessly with your tapered faewood runestaff which glows briefly with a dark purple light.
Actions when a Cleric uses:
You lower the tip of your tapered faewood runestaff to the ground and trace a pattern chanting a nonsensical prayer. You firmly tap the pattern with your runestaff and a circle of light rises from the ground beneath you and then disappears.
You raise your tapered faewood runestaff and trace a reverent symbol as a faint nimbus of light surrounds you and then fades away.
You murmer a soft prayer and lean heavily against your tapered faewood runestaff gathering your power.
Whispering a devotional phrase, you gesture effortlessly with your tapered faewood runestaff which is briefly suffused with light.
Loresong:
Melody and memory collide in a brilliant cascade of shimmering notes. Your surroundings suddenly fade and you find yourself in the middle of a deep forest. The canopy is thick, but the dappled sunlight peeking through provides more than adequate illumination. Just ahead, an elderly gnome trudges a well-worn path, leading an extremely fat grey pony. The pony plods obediently behind him, carrying an odd assortment of sticks in addition to his already substantial burden. In a burst of color your vision fades.
Voice and vision intertwine in a dizzying array of color and tone. You find yourself inside a small one-room cabin. The elderly gnome from the forest path sits in a rocking chair with a whittling knife. Across his lap rests a large branch of ebonwood which he is carefully smoothing, tapering and shaping into a well balanced and beautiful staff. Working at an astonishing speed, he carves a sinister claw at the top end of the staff. A discordant note rises between you and the staff, pushing you into darkness. After a moment, the darkness lifts and you notice with a start that your surroundings have shifted.
Song and staff struggle against your will creating a cacophony of crossed senses while the world goes black around the edges. In your mind's eye, you see the now familiar gnomish whittler still sitting in his rocking chair. After thoroughly inspecting his work, the whittler stands and walks across the room, dragging the staff behind him. From a petite chest, he pulls a tiny amber ball and deftly places it inside the claw atop the large ebonwood runestaff. He holds the staff up to the light and you notice a dark occlusion in the stone. It appears as if a long bug, perhaps a caterpillar, has been trapped within the amber. The threads of the vision begin to unravel and you are left feeling queasy and unsettled.
At the sound of your voice, the staff yields easily and you are plunged once more into darkness. As your vision returns, you are confronted by a golden slit-pupil eye staring directly at you. With a sigh of relief, you recognize the eye as the decorative amber globe on the whittler's ebonwood runestaff. He appears to be hard at work on another staff, this time of silver haon. He has finished the basic shaping and tapering and is concentrating on the decorative carving for the top. Working carefully, he has roughed out a series of five interlocking rings. As he continues to refine his design, your concentration falters and you find yourself being drawn back to the present.
Your voice vibrates in harmony with the staff, drawing you back once again to the familiar cabin. The whittler is sitting on a cushion with the silver haon staff before him. A collection of small jars and vials are strewn about the cabin floor. The gnome dips a brush into one and begins to apply some color to the carving of the five rings. Hanging on the wall behind him, you notice a well cared for painting of a stately gnome lady in profile. She is obviously related to the fellow kneeling on the floor. She is wearing a black dress, a white bonnet and white gloves in a style that suggests a generation's difference at most. As you shift your focus back to the wizened gnome on the floor, the vision ends.
SOLD BUY OUT!
Actions when a Sorcerer is using:
You lower the tip of your tapered faewood runestaff to the ground and trace a pattern which glows with a dark purple light. You firmly tap the pattern with your runestaff and a circle of radiating black essence rises from the ground beneath you and then disappears.
You raise your tapered faewood runestaff and trace an eldritch sign as tendrils of shadow gather briefly about you.
Whispering an enigmatic phrase, you gesture effortlessly with your tapered faewood runestaff which glows briefly with a dark purple light.
Actions when a Cleric uses:
You lower the tip of your tapered faewood runestaff to the ground and trace a pattern chanting a nonsensical prayer. You firmly tap the pattern with your runestaff and a circle of light rises from the ground beneath you and then disappears.
You raise your tapered faewood runestaff and trace a reverent symbol as a faint nimbus of light surrounds you and then fades away.
You murmer a soft prayer and lean heavily against your tapered faewood runestaff gathering your power.
Whispering a devotional phrase, you gesture effortlessly with your tapered faewood runestaff which is briefly suffused with light.
Loresong:
Melody and memory collide in a brilliant cascade of shimmering notes. Your surroundings suddenly fade and you find yourself in the middle of a deep forest. The canopy is thick, but the dappled sunlight peeking through provides more than adequate illumination. Just ahead, an elderly gnome trudges a well-worn path, leading an extremely fat grey pony. The pony plods obediently behind him, carrying an odd assortment of sticks in addition to his already substantial burden. In a burst of color your vision fades.
Voice and vision intertwine in a dizzying array of color and tone. You find yourself inside a small one-room cabin. The elderly gnome from the forest path sits in a rocking chair with a whittling knife. Across his lap rests a large branch of ebonwood which he is carefully smoothing, tapering and shaping into a well balanced and beautiful staff. Working at an astonishing speed, he carves a sinister claw at the top end of the staff. A discordant note rises between you and the staff, pushing you into darkness. After a moment, the darkness lifts and you notice with a start that your surroundings have shifted.
Song and staff struggle against your will creating a cacophony of crossed senses while the world goes black around the edges. In your mind's eye, you see the now familiar gnomish whittler still sitting in his rocking chair. After thoroughly inspecting his work, the whittler stands and walks across the room, dragging the staff behind him. From a petite chest, he pulls a tiny amber ball and deftly places it inside the claw atop the large ebonwood runestaff. He holds the staff up to the light and you notice a dark occlusion in the stone. It appears as if a long bug, perhaps a caterpillar, has been trapped within the amber. The threads of the vision begin to unravel and you are left feeling queasy and unsettled.
At the sound of your voice, the staff yields easily and you are plunged once more into darkness. As your vision returns, you are confronted by a golden slit-pupil eye staring directly at you. With a sigh of relief, you recognize the eye as the decorative amber globe on the whittler's ebonwood runestaff. He appears to be hard at work on another staff, this time of silver haon. He has finished the basic shaping and tapering and is concentrating on the decorative carving for the top. Working carefully, he has roughed out a series of five interlocking rings. As he continues to refine his design, your concentration falters and you find yourself being drawn back to the present.
Your voice vibrates in harmony with the staff, drawing you back once again to the familiar cabin. The whittler is sitting on a cushion with the silver haon staff before him. A collection of small jars and vials are strewn about the cabin floor. The gnome dips a brush into one and begins to apply some color to the carving of the five rings. Hanging on the wall behind him, you notice a well cared for painting of a stately gnome lady in profile. She is obviously related to the fellow kneeling on the floor. She is wearing a black dress, a white bonnet and white gloves in a style that suggests a generation's difference at most. As you shift your focus back to the wizened gnome on the floor, the vision ends.